Gay Harry Potter-05-4-Dean Thomas and the Thirteen Naked Boys
by jerome1980
Summary: Repost. Dean Thomas is stressed to hell: O.W.L.'s are upon him, and so is a passion for Ginny Weasley. Then a bit of Slytherin bullying and an accidental collision between Dean and Lee Jordan on the soccer field start a chain of circumstances that ends with Dean showing his gay(ish) side. Yes, it's difficult being a randy teenager.


GAY HARRY POTTER-05-4-DEAN THOMAS AND THE TWELVE NAKED BOYS

Dean Thomas must have been a hundred feet in the air. He could feel the broom quivering between his legs, responsive to his every thought.

There were many witches in the air too: they were flying around him in three dimensions, smiling at him, but turning away whenever he looked at their breasts, or craned his neck to spy out their hairy bits.

It was logical that everyone was naked, but decidedly illogical that the witches should be so elusive. They were all frustrating him: Katie Bell, Romilda Vane, Susan Bones, Morag McDougal, Ginny Weasley.

Ginny! Surely she would let him have a look—and maybe a feel.

He aimed at her. She looked over her shoulder, but instead of veering away, which was the witches' usual policy today, she turned round and, crouching low over her broom, raced towards him.

This was it! He was going to get together with Ginny and—

A hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to a standstill.

It was Harry Potter, shouting: "Waving her snatch? Mine's a cock!"

Dean opened his eyes.

Seamus was shaking his shoulder and saying: "Ravenclaw match! It's nine o'clock!"

Dean felt awful. He had been up until one o'clock, revising for the O.W.L.'s.

He perked up a bit when he remembered that Gryffindor were only one game away from the Quidditch Cup; then his heart sank as he thought of Ron Weasley's form as Keeper and the total inadequacy of Kirke and Sloper as Beaters.

He got out of bed. His pyjamas were damp: he'd had a minor orgasm in his sleep, though not enough to get rid of the rock-hard erection which hampered his morning pee.

As he brushed his teeth, he realised that it was two weeks since his last wank. He had spent five years wanking last thing at night and first thing in the morning, but recently he'd been too tired at night and too rushed in the morning.

He decided to nip into a lavvy cubicle after lunch and put matters right, but found himself looking forward to it less than expected: he really needed someone else to be with him—preferably a girl.

But girls were different: you had to go _out_ with them, _talk_ with them, _cherish_ them; and that would get you a kiss. Then you had to do it all over again. He hadn't the patience, and consequently he'd never had a steady girlfriend—though goodness knows, he'd wanted one.

Boys, on the other hand, didn't need buttering up: whatever the mechanics, it boiled down to two lads emptying their balls together.

He reviewed his sex-life: he'd been sucked off by Harry Potter a few times, and by Neville Longbottom and Danny Jorrocks, once each. He'd let Danny bum him once and that was it—oh, and a communal wank in the shower with Harry and Ron.

Pretty pathetic really, but he'd been inhibited from having a full-blown gay relationship because Seamus was his best friend and Seamus had always poured scorn on gayness.

Perhaps he should have risked alienating Seamus by making a move towards closer friendship; but he didn't really fancy Seamus, though he liked him, even . . .

He stopped that train of thought immediately.

X

At breakfast, Ron was amazingly cheerful, considering that he was already a laughing-stock and could be expected to solidify his reputation in the match against Ravenclaw.

Perhaps, like Dean, he was borne up by the thought of their three fabulous chasers: Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, and Alicia Spinnet. Today, they would have to be even more fabulous than usual: they would have a lot of Bludgery to cope with, as Kirke and Sloper were so useless.

Dean walked down to the Quidditch pitch with Seamus and Lavender Brown—their affair was back on, now that the Russian boy, Yuri Whatsit, had left.

Dean didn't suppose that Lavender really thought that Seamus and Yuri had been in a relationship; still, they _had_ snogged in public. Come to that, Seamus had snogged Colin Creevey, also in public, but explained it away as a wind-up. It had certainly wound up Lavender to the extent that she had dropped come-hither hints to Dean.

But Seamus and Lavender were definitely an item again, though not holding hands: in an unspoken show of sympathy for gay boys, who were banned from hand-holding by Umbridge, mixed couples walked everywhere three inches apart—even Ray Kelly and Trinity Freeman, who had been lovers since the day they met on the Hogwarts Express nearly four years previously.

Hogwarts had been made gay-conscious by the determination of Danny Jorrocks. Dean thought back to the occasion when he had splatted Danny's face with semen. Not surprisingly, his penis was stiff again. He should have seen more of Danny, but had never dreamt that Danny would shortly be leaving the school. So Dean had missed dozens of opportunities.

It was a perfect day for Quidditch: the sun peeped occasionally between the big, fluffy clouds and there was only a light south-westerly breeze.

The match got off to a thrilling start: right from the off, Davies, the Ravenclaw captain, after a shimmering flight, scored effortlessly, leaving Ron floundering yards from where he should have been.

Seconds later, Ravenclaw were on the attack again. Pete Bradley looked certain to score, but Ron brought off an incredible save.

"That was luck!" said Seamus, "No-one's that good!"

Dean expected to hear Harry Potter come to Ron's defence, but no: Dean looked around. Where _was_ Harry . . . and Hermione?

There was no time for a systematic search: from the break, the three Gryffindor Chasers combined brilliantly allowing Angelina Johnson to equalise, sending Lee Jordan's commentary into a frenzy of Angelina-worship.

Immediately Ravenclaw were back on the attack, and Ron was required to make another good save, this time from Ephraim Chambers.

Thereafter, it was a game of fast, flowing Quidditch.

Fortunately, the Ravenclaw Beaters were pretty hopeless too, and if a Bludger hit anyone, it was by pure chance.

The difference between the teams lay in the goalkeepers: Michael Weeks was good, but on the day, Ron was better.

Gryffindor had a good lead—sixty points to ten—but, as always in a low-scoring game, the Snitch would decide everything.

Dean looked at Ginny, now patrolling slowly, now diving and feinting.

She was not naked, as in his dream, but he could make out the outline of her small bosom under the Quidditch robe.

His pelvis gave a jerk of it's own accord, but soon there was something more important than Ginny's tits: the Snitch was just ten yards behind Cho Chang.

Ginny had seen it too, and set off at full speed so as to draw Cho further away.

Cho fell for the deception and followed Ginny, who suddenly swerved and made directly for the Snitch.

Cho was still nearer, but Ginny had the advantage of speed, and snatched the Snitch from Cho's outstretched fingers.

X

There was Bedlam: everyone was mobbing the descending victors; Lee Jordan, in the commentary box, was babbling about the gracious modesty being shown by the Gryffindor captain at the moment of her triumph; Seamus and Dean, caught up in the emotional whirlwind hugged each other.

Lavender made it a three-way hug. Unfortunately, Dean had instinctively rotated his body, so as not to press his stiffie against Seamus, and Lavender walked into it.

She looked surprised for a moment, but kept pressing hard.

Dean broke up the embrace—not in embarrassment, but because the only girl he wanted to think of at the moment was Ginny.

Umbridge had gone back to the castle, so Professor Flitwick, the losers' housemaster made a cordial and sporting speech before presenting the cup to Angelina.

With universal approval, she passed the cup to Ron Weasley, who was hoisted on the strong shoulders of the prefects Kenneth Towler and Gordon Twist, and carried in glory towards the castle.

The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students had sung _For they are jolly good fellows_, bur now Gryffindor sang a different song.

Dean joined in the song, whose new words seemed to have occurred spontaneously:

_ Weasley is our King,_

_Weasley is our King,_

_He didn't let the Quaffle in,_

_Weasley is our King._

_Weasley can save anything,_

_He never leaves a single ring,_

_That's why Gryffindors all sing:_

_Weasley is our King._

Dean was quite close to Ron, amid the crush of the happy crowd. He squeezed through and managed to get hold of Ron's ankle.

The boy ahead of him was holding Ron's knee—no—higher up than that—a lot higher up.

Then with an astonished and amused jolt he realised: in the middle of that huge crowd, _Colin Creevey was wanking Ron off!_

There was more: that little scrap, Alexander Bell, whom Colin had befriended, had one of his hands inside Colin's robe!

Dean didn't know which of the three he envied most.

He thought back to the occasion when the Creeveys and Danny Jorrocks had asked him to make up a foursome.

What a fool he had been to refuse!

He resolved to talk to Colin and Dennis after lunch and ask whether it was too late to accept.

He looked around, but could not see Dennis. Presumably he was consoling Mandy Brocklehurst.

Ron had spotted Harry and Hermione and shouted to them: "WE DID IT! WE WON!"

Ron had won more than the Quidditch cup: as he shouted to his friends, his buttocks were wriggling backward and forwards on the prefects' shoulders. Ron was having an orgasm.

Judging by the way Colin was wriggling about, he was in the same delightful situation.

Dean shifted his free hand and squeezed Colin's bum—first one cheek and then the other.

Colin looked round.

"Hello, Deano!" he shouted.

In response, Dean smiled a _Hello!_ and squeezed a little harder.

Dean hadn't fondled many boys, but he thought that if he fondled a million more, he wouldn't find such a nice bum: just the right firmness; just the right size (_More than a handful's wasted_, Danny had said); and a mysterious sense of rightness about the curvature.

Alexander looked round: "Hi, Dean," he said.

Dean shifted his hand and gave Alexander's bottom the same treatment.

It was okay, but didn't have the same wonder as Colin's.

Dean wasn't going to tell that to the kid: he smiled and said: "Cute!"

Then, suddenly, they were inside and the group was beginning to break up. Alexander and Colin joined their respective classmates and Dean looked around for Seamus and Lavender.

Dennis was coming through the hall, probably seeking his brother.

He saw Dean and came across: "You and Colin should have waited to see the Slytherins, Deano! They were so cross. They said Ravenclaw must have been bribed to play so badly."

"I bet they go to Umbridge to get the result changed," said Dean.

"Fat chance!" said Dennis, "Slytherin Old Boys and Girls are only a quarter of the whole set. Do you fancy a pee? I haven't seen Rudolf for ages."

Dean laughed: "The red-nosed reindeer? Only us Muggle-borns know that song! And I know what you mean."

But they were out of luck: the boys' lavatory was heaving, and the shiny red nose on Dean's willy was only revealed to a couple of uninterested boys.

"See yer later!" shouted Dennis.

X

After lunch, there was still a lot of excitement. Few students could settle down to revision, so those boys who were keen on Muggle football decided to have a game on the lawn. With slight regrets, Dean abandoned his plan to approach Colin.

They went up to the dormitory to get changed—all five of them, as Neville had reluctantly agreed to participate, despite being as hopeless at football as Kirke was at Quidditch.

Dean had a ferocious erection again. He tried to be discreet, but he saw that Seamus and Ron had noticed.

He wondered if they might have one of their Saturnalia nights later on; they'd done it twice: once after the Christmas Ball and once after the _Quibbler_ article had made Harry and Seamus friends again.

A couple of dozen boys assembled on the lawn—from every house except Slytherin, whose members were too snooty to take part in anything to do with Muggles.

They had a proper game: Lee Jordan magicked up some goals, and Eddie Carmichael some pitch markings.

The two seniors acted as captains. Neville was the last to be picked, but didn't seem upset.

They had two half-hour sessions of twelve-a-side—Eddie's Skins versus Lee's Shirts.

Dean was centre-forward for Skins, who always looked certain to win—mainly because Eddie had had the nous to pick Ron Weasley and put him in goal.

Some of the spectators may have been interested in the game, but most were probably attracted by the twelve torsos and forty-eight legs on display. There was a lot of giggling from the younger girls and Tintin, and a lot of cheering from everybody when any skill was displayed—Harry Potter got the loudest cheers.

Dean felt sorry for Harry. He had a huge burden to deal with for a boy who was still fifteen. No wonder he had inner demons. Yet there were scores of students, and hundreds outside Hogwarts, who would willingly have shared his burden, if that were possible.

His thoughts were interrupted by the need to get his head to a cross from Julian Summers. Unfortunately, Lee Jordan was looking to clear the ball and the two ended up sprawled on the floor with Dean on top of Lee.

The ball was still bobbling about the box, and both lads struggled to get up and after it, with the result that they fell down again—this time with Lee on top.

Amid laughter, they helped each other up.

"Man, you got the same problem as me!" said Dean.

"Tell me about it!" said Lee.

The boys were wearing tight, elasticated jock-straps, but each boy had felt a steel-hard blob of squashed penis pressing against him.

There was some discussion as to whether it should be a free kick, a penalty, a goal kick, or a corner. Everyone was arguing in favour of the opposition: games without Slytherin involvement were played with friendliness and sportsmanship.

In the end, they settled for the excitement of a dropped ball three yards out, and Dean had the pleasure of ramming it into the net.

At half time, they were thankful for the glasses of iced pumpkin juice that Madam Hooch, materialising from nowhere, provided. She was acting beyond the call of duty, but Dean remembered her lectures on dehydration.

Picking his moment he sidled up to Lee.

"Fancy having a wank together, afterwards?" he muttered.

"Yeah, all right then," said Lee.

The second half kicked off and, almost immediately, Neville had to leave the field with a pulled muscle.

"Been pulling his winkle, more like!" shouted a cheeky first-year.

"Shut up, Shrimp!" shouted Dennis Creevey, who was sitting on the touchline with Mandy.

"What do you mean a wank?" asked Lee, during another close encounter with Dean.

After a few minutes, Dean had the chance to say: "What do you mean, what do I mean? Hasn't anyone taught you how to wank yet?"

Later on, from Lee: "Both at the same time? Swapping hands?"

And just before full-time, Dean said: "We'll spend this evening discussing it, and try for a wank tomorrow."

By the end of the game, the pair were creased up.

Dean couldn't resist a little tease: he said to Ron Weasley: "Another good game, Ron. I think Colin wants to see you."

Ron was red-faced already, but no doubt the shot had gone home.

"Let's go to the other side of the lake," said Lee, and the two lads set off at a trot before any of their friends could approach them.

X

The ground on the far side of the lake was steep, but undulating; there were plenty of flat areas where scrub and bushes allowed privacy for lovers, boozers, and smokers. The area's popularity was limited by fearful rumours of unpleasant magical creatures which dwelt in the nearby moor. For two Gryffindor boys, such fears were non-existent.

"First thing I'm doing is getting that bloody jockie off!" said Lee, throwing off his robe and lowering his shorts and jock-strap.

"Good idea!"

Dean did likewise and, freed from constraint, both willies pinged up into full erections.

Dean looked at Lee's willy. It was shorter than his own, but much thicker. There was a huge amount of spare foreskin: the glans was still totally covered.

Lee had been assessing Dean.

"Bloody hell, Dean! What a mess!"

Dean looked down. His bell-end was covered in several shades of fluff.

"I've been dribbling all day," he said, and reached out a hand to feel Lee.

The skin was like his own: softer than velvet; as soft as the underlying flesh was hard.

He felt Lee enfolding his own willy. It was wonderful to have someone else's hands on him.

They started rubbing each other but, almost immediately, Lee pulled away.

"This is clumsy," he said, "Let's do it sitting down."

The lads stepped out of their lower garments.

Lee took out his wand and created a soft, sheepskin rug.

"Neat!" said Dean.

"If it was the Charms Practical N.E.W.T., I wouldn't have a hope," said Lee.

They sat companiably side-by-side, and took hold of each other's willies again.

They rubbed for a bit.

Dean was getting the magic feeling, but this time it was he who stopped matters.

"It still doesn't feel right," he said, "How about this? Open your legs wide so I can sit between them, and I'll open my legs so I can straddle you."

The boys shifted. They were now sitting face-to-face, with their willies pressing against each other. Dean congratulated himself: this way they could wank the other willy in the same posture that they wanked their own.

They started wanking in earnest.

"You're doing it wrong!" said a squeaky voice.

Dean and Lee both shrieked in alarm, and tried to stand up—an impossibility from that position, with both boys attempting it simultaneously—it was like the goalmouth incident all over again.

Lee found his voice first: "Wha . . . Wha . . . What in Merlin's name are you doing spying on us and suddenly jumping out?"

"We weren't spying on you. We've been here for _ages_."

Dean looked at the speaker. He was a Hufflepuff first-year. There was another of the same ilk standing next to him. They were both naked.

"And we didn't _jump_ at you," continued the boy, "We've been standing quietly watching you since you arrived, but we've been trained in JIGS and we can't just stand by and see two seniors making a botch of it, can we Lee?"

"Call me Jordan, if you're gonna talk to me!" said Lee.

"I was talking to _my_ Lee. This is Lee Shepherd. He's my boyfriend."

He put his arm around the other boy's shoulders.

The second boy hugged his friend's waist, and said: "And this is James Buckley. He's _my_ boyfriend."

Dean thought it was rather sweet: the two little boys, obviously not yet ready for proper sex, but in love, and proud to tell everyone.

Perhaps Lee Jordan felt the same as Dean: he remained silent, anyway.

Dean said: "Why do you think we're doing it wrong?"

Lee Jordan found his voice again: "Who cares what they think? They're too young to know bugger all!"

"Lee, they've been going to JIGS all year," said Dean, "They must have learnt a lot of things we don't know."

"Bollocks!" said Lee Jordan, "May I remind you, it's Juniors in Gay Support; we're not juniors; we're not gay; and we don't need support."

"True," said Dean, "but we might as well hear what they've go to say. So tell us, little Jimmy Buckley: why do you think we're doing it wrong?"

"We don't think we _know_," said James, "In the first place, you should start matters with a kiss."

Lee Jordan snorted: "Now that _is_ gay! We're not having sex; we're just swapping wanks."

James explained: "Just because sex starts with a kiss, doesn't mean that kissing always leads to sex. Danny says that friends should always kiss each other."

"Well, Danny can go and stuff himself!"

"That's about the only thing he hasn't done!" giggled James.

Dean felt a swell of randiness.

He pressed his lips against Lee's for two seconds, and took hold of Lee's penis again. Once more, he was startled at how thick it was.

"There! That's the kiss sorted," he said, and started to squeeze.

"Shirt!" said Lee Shepherd.

"That's right, Lee," said James, "What's the point in snuggling up without pressing your bare chests together?"

"Just go with it, Lee," said Dean.

The two friends took their shirts off.

"Now you'll get a bit of a sun-tan, too," said James, "Press together hard."

Dean obeyed, putting his free hand around Lee and pulling him tightly. He was aware of two big, hard nipples pressing against him. It felt sexy.

Yet again, he started wanking Lee, who had mirrored every move of Dean's and was panting hard.

They were both very sweaty. He could feel their chests sliding against each other, and their hands were slipping on each other's backs. Lee's penis felt moist within Dean's hand.

They were also smelly. This wasn't as objectionable as he might have expected. Hadn't Danny Jorrocks licked his armpit once?

The image was erotic, and Dean felt himself coming.

He heard himself grunting, then squealing.

He pressed his lips against Lee's to keep himself quiet, and as the first great eruption of semen spurted upwards, he was too wrapped up in his passionate enjoyment to be surprised when Lee pushed his tongue inside his mouth.

A second gush came, and the boys were now snogging hard.

He could feel that Lee was coming as well, but not from the state of things down below: their stomachs were pressed hard together and the only way for the cum to go was downwards. Their privates were awash and, as Dean spasmed more and more, his hand was drenched in a billowing lake of semen.

Lee stopped jerking, so Dean slowed down his wanking to a stop, but Lee had to do several more strokes before Dean had finished.

By instinct, the boys simultaneously withdrew their hands from the willies and cuddled with both arms. Dean could feel the cum dripping down his loins.

Despite their breathlessness, the boys continued their snog. Dean thought about how good it would be if he were holding Ginny.

"I bet you wish I was Angelina!" he panted.

"Just enjoy the moment, Deano!" said Lee.

The hugged for another minute, then Dean felt a cramp approaching in his leg and gingerly got to his feet.

"Jolly good!" said James.

Dean jumped again: he had forgotten that there were others present.

"I needed it, James," he said.

"So did I," said Lee Jordan, getting up and stretching himself.

He looked down at the semen slithering down his legs.

"Bloody hell, Dean," he said, "I thought I'd come a lot, but you've come _gallons_!"

"Why don't you do this every day, then?" asked James.

"This is a one-off," said Lee Jordan, "we've a reason to celebrate and we've both got—we both _had_—full bollocks."

James persisted: "Why don't you wank every day, then, like normal boys?"

"I've got exams," said Lee Jordan, "I revise until I'm falling asleep, and then I have to rush to breakfast in the morning."

"Same here," said Dean.

"_We've_ got exams," said James, "and we find time for all sorts of things—there's always time for sex."

"Little Jimmy," said Lee Jordan, "first-year exams are a piece of piss compared to O.W.L.'s And N.E.W.T.'s; anyway, as you obviously can't come yet, why do you want to bother getting up to _all sorts of things_?"

"We're boyfriends, silly! We do _everything_ together—eating, sleeping, playing, lessons, homework, reading, Quidditch, and lots and lots of sex—and we can do sex-things I bet you can't do."

"Like wanking for ten hours without coming!" said Lee Jordan.

"Shall we show them, Lee?"

Lee Shepherd nodded and the two little boys made to lie down on the rug, but stopped.

"That is _soaking_!" said James, "Come over to ours."

He led them along the hillside to another little nest, with another sheepskin rug.

"Great minds think alike!" said Lee Jordan.

"We had to pay for ours, though," said James.

The two first-years adopted the position universally known as _sixty-nine_.

"Yeah, that's well original!" laughed Lee Jordan.

"Wait a minute," said James, and the two boys shifted so that they each had a mouthful of balls.

Dean felt his erection returning.

Then the boys shifted a bit more . . . and a bit more, until—Dean could hardly believe it—they were licking each other's bumholes.

"That _is_ impressive!" said Lee Jordan.

The boys broke off and got to their feet.

"We sometimes do that for _ages_," said James, "Lee's got a really supple back, but we don't know what'll happen when we get bigger, so we're making the most of it."

"Are you two going to try?" asked Lee Shepherd.

"Definitely not!" said Lee Jordan.

"Why not?" asked Dean, "My bumhole is as sweet as rosewater; it's yours that's offensive, Lee!"

"I'm not gonna lick _anyone's_ bumhole!" said Lee Jordan.

"We don't just lick," said James, "We stick out tongues right up."

"Not interested!" said Lee Jordan.

"Then why have you got a bloody great stiffie?" said James, "Talking of which, I've never seen so much foreskin in my life. Can we play with it, please?"

"Piss off," said Dean, "If anyone's gonna play with it, it's me. I couldn't look at it properly before."

He crouched and put the tips of a thumb and two fingers against Lee's willy. Then he pulled the foreskin back and back until it was concertina'd up and the bright purple penis-tip was exposed. It was still awash with cum.

"That's fantastic!" said Dean, and pulled the great roll of flesh backwards and forwards a few times, revealing and concealing the knobbly veins.

He assessed the colour: it was a slightly yellowish brown; Dean's was very black—blacker than his body. He tried to remember that song Danny Jorrocks had about the variety of penises.

"Don't be offended that we didn't use your rug," said James, "We weren't revolted—I'll prove it!"

He nudged Dean's hand aside and crouched to take Lee Jordan's willy in his mouth. Lee shoved his loins forward, clearly in an excited sexual state—as indeed was Dean, as he watched James's head bobbing about.

"Can I?" asked Lee Shepherd.

"Please," said Dean.

The boy knelt and gently licked Dean's penis all over. Then he opened his mouth wide, and took half of it into his mouth.

He started sucking, and tickling the tip with his tongue. When the underside was stimulated, Dean gave a judder: he was really enjoying this. He couldn't remember Danny doing all the fancy tonguing—but then, Danny had fallen asleep on the job.

He looked at Lee Shepherd's face.

The boy looked up at him, smiling with every part of his face except the mouth.

He had bewitching green eyes, marred by slight bruising around one socket. Dean thought that, if he were gay, he would ask the boy to be his special friend . . . but the other boy, James, had nice eyes too—bright and sparkling with mischief . . .

"That's beautiful!" said Dean, but he really meant: _You're beautiful_.

There was a commotion to his right: Lee Jordan was climaxing and growling: _Oh, Merlin! . . . Yeah! . . . Yeah!_ he was gripping James's shoulders tightly—Dean could see his white knuckles—and lunging vigorously back and forth. The back of James's throat must be taking a right pounding.

Dean stroked Lee Shepherd's head. He would treat the boy with nothing but gentleness, even though he felt another red-hot orgasm coming on.

As well as the exciting events at the front, Dean was enjoying a secondary pleasure at the rear: Lee Shepherd had both hands on his bum, stroking and squeezing it alternately.

Now, accompanied by the sounds of James spitting and coughing, the boy tickled Dean's bumhole and pressed a firm finger against it.

That was enough: whispering _I'm coming_ to give the boy an option, Dean went off like a rocket.

Lee Shepherd, though, was a resolute boy, and stood his ground as Dean produced half a dozen shots of cum, swallowing the whole lot, and rising with a proud grin.

"Well chaps, we've all earned out dinner today!" said Lee Jordan, "Do you do that all the time?"

"We do all sorts of things all the time," said Matthew, "But it's usually light sex, rather than hard."

"What's the difference between light and hard?" asked Lee Jordan.

"Well, light sex is what we've just done, and hard sex is bumming and spanking and peeing on each other."

"Wrong!" said Lee Jordan, "The difference between light and hard is that you can get to sleep with a light on."

When they'd finished laughing, Dean asked Lea Shepherd: "Where did you get that black eye?"

"It was Chessell of the Inquisitorial Squad."

"That scrawny little turd? How did he jinx you?"

"It wasn't a jinx. He came along the corridor, looking cross; he shouted _Gay boy!_ and elbowed me in the eye."

"We can't have this, can we Dean?" said Lee Jordan, "Action will be taken."

"Is that wise?" asked Dean.

After an initial flurry of outrageous behaviour by the Inquisitorial Squad, there had been complaints from parents—parents of the Squad's victims, and parents of Squad members who had suffered retaliatory jinxes.

A letter headed _Whatever's Happening at Hogwarts?_, having been refused publication by the _Prophet_, appeared in the _Quibbler_. The Ministry must have had a quiet word with Umbridge, because the Inquisitorial Squad had retreated into apparent dormancy.

"Yes it's bloody well wise!" said Lee Jordan.

The four boys got dressed and headed back to the castle.

X

"Where yer been?" asked Seamus.

"Having a shower," said Dean.

"No, before that."

"Hanging out with Lee Jordan."

"Did he have any cigs?"

"Did he buggery! He's gone well disorganised since the twins left."

"It's probably all for the best," said Hermione, "He's been able to get in some solid revision."

"Don't talk about exams," said Ron, "Let's just have one totally happy day."

"And Seamus and Dean won't have many more days at all, if they carry on smoking," said Hermione.

"There's nothing wrong with the odd fag," said Lavender Brown who was sitting by Seamus. She must have been fond of him as he had _not_ showered after football.

They were all gathered in the common room before dinner. It was a quiet moment, with everyone getting their second wind before the celebrations began again.

"Where _is_ Lee?" asked Seamus.

"He's working with the Gay Community," said Dean, and explained what had happened to Lee Shepherd.

"They're sorting out a surprise for Chessell," he added.

"Brian Chessell, the Inquisitor?" said Hermione, "I don't think we should stir up trouble, now that they've gone quiet."

"You're probably right, but it's too late now: Lee Jordan's on the warpath and I bet all the gays are too."

They discussed the pros and cons of retaliation until the portrait hole opened and Lee crawled in, followed by Sea Jay, Jonathan Neil and the Creevey brothers.

"Right, guys an' gals!" shouted Lee, "House meeting!"

Scouts were sent to fetch strays from the dormitories.

When everyone was assembled, Lee addressed them:

"We've just got time before dinner to learn our new Victory Dance. It's called the Conga. It's danced in a line. Everyone holds on to the hips of the person in front of them. It's three steps forward and a kick. Same again for ever, alternating right and left. The lads will show you."

Lee's followers formed a line; then: left, right, left, kick; right, left, right, kick.

Lee sang the tune:

_de-der de de de der der_

_ de-der de de de der der_

_ de der der der_

_ de der der der_

"Now everyone join in except Ron Weasley, for reasons of modesty; and the prefects, for reasons of good order and discipline."

"Ron _is_ a prefect!" shouted Nick White.

"I was just making sure he understood," said Lee.

"Detention, Jordan!" said Ron.

They started dancing and everyone quickly discovered the delights of snaking around the place. And it was such an easy dance that even Neville could manage it, despite having hit the jackpot and obtained Ginny Weasley's hips for himself.

Dean had Parvati Patel to hold on to, which was okay; and he had the extra pleasure of Seamus holding tightly on to him; Lavender was just behind.

When the dancing was perfect, Lee halted:

"Now the words."

He waved his wand, and some words appeared on each of the walls. Everybody sang it through once; then they tried dancing and singing. After a couple of false starts they all had it and, by dinner time, were word-perfect and dance-perfect.

They went down to dinner. Ron's ears were pink, and Dean had the horn, as he walked behind Ginny and Neville.

X

It was a noisy and rollicking meal: even the Ravenclaws seemed extraordinarily merry, considering their defeat. In fact, every house except Slytherin was bubbling and bouncing with happiness.

Dean was surprised: if Gryffindor had lost, there would have been an atmosphere of gloom. There was a lesson there, he felt.

As ever, he sat next to Seamus. He usually had sixth-years on the other side—Katie Bell quite liked him. Today, for a change, he had a seventh-year: Lee Jordan.

"I sat here to let you know that you're in the War-party."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you put yourself somewhere near the front of the Conga and be prepared to cover up anything that's going on."

"Like what?"

"There's a certain amount of playing by ear. We're trying to get Chessell, of course. It's a good scheme—Jonny Neil came up with it; he's a bright boy."

"Did he write the words?"

"No, that was the Creeveys. They really are artistic—painting, music, writing. All the trimmings."

"Bloody good words, given the time they had to work on them."

"Bloody good! . . . Ah, Spag Bol . . . _Passatemi il parmigiano, per favore_."

It was an excellent meal, despite the detritus of _sugo_ left on many cheeks.

When it was time, Lee stood up and a line formed behind him, starting with some of the larger boys and girls.

Dean had Jack Sloper in front of him and Alicia Spinnet behind.

The dance began as Lee lead the singing:

_Ronny, Ronny, Ronny,_

_ He's red-haired and he's bonny._

_ He's tall and thin,_

_ With freckled skin._

_ Within the competition,_

_ You won't get his permission_

_ To put your thing_

_ Inside his ring._

_ Weasley, Weasley, Weasley,_

_ He stops the Quaffle easily._

_ His great big hands_

_ Have won him fans._

_ So let us all remember_

_ Our most prodigious member._

_ We're all hooked on_

_ Our favourite Ron._

Umbridge was not gracing the staff table with her presence. Had she been there, she might have stopped the dance on the official grounds that here was a student group which had formed without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor; and on the unofficial grounds that she had not given anyone permission to enjoy themselves.

The Professors who _were_ there smiled and sat back to enjoy the spectacle: teachers need entertainment as much as anyone else. Professor McGonagall was discreetly twitching in time to the music.

The snake passed around the bottom of the table, around the top, and back towards the main doors.

Then an extraordinary thing happened: Hufflepuff students joined the line—some at the end, and some near the front: the latter were obviously in the _War-party_.

The Hufflepuffs knew the dance; _and the words_! A lot of people had worked hard on this project.

Dean felt someone new slip in behind him. Glancing round, he saw that it was Ernie Macmillan.

"Naughty prefect!" shouted Dean, and the two boys smiled at each other.

As Dean had expected, Ravenclaw were up for it too.

There was some genteel shoving: for many boys, the opportunity to hold a girl's hips was rare and welcome; and _vice_ _versa_.

Behind Dean, Ernie was replaced by Parvati's sister, Padma; and then by Morag McDougal.

He smiled to himself, wondering what Morag would say if he told her about his dream.

The Conga passed up and down the Hall, and things got complicated when the Slytherins started to leave: they had a choice of negotiating a maze, or breaking the line—something which the dancers made easy for those who wished to.

There was a lot of confusion though, and sometimes Slytherins got separated from each other. . . .

Lee led them out of the Hall and up the magnificent marble staircase.

Sea Jay was standing at the foot of the stairs. Glancing down, Dean saw that he had split the line and directed the tail end, under the leadership of Justin Finch-Fletchley out into the open air. He also detached a few individuals and sent them to link up with the outdoor group.

The _War-party_ was isolated.

They set off along the corridor.

Looking ahead, Dean could see that one of the dancers was holding his leader round the neck rather than round the hips.

It was Chessell!

The singing died out, and they decoupled as they filed into an empty classroom.

"Well done everyone!" said Lee Jordan, "Mission accomplished!"

Big Owen Cadwallader lowered Chessell onto the floor, propped up against the wall.

Lee took out his wand and pronounced _R__ennervate!_ at Chessell.

The Slytherin twitched, opened his eyes, and twitched more violently, as he tried to stand up.

"I should stay down, if I were you, Brian," said Lee, "You've been Stunned and you won't be yourself for a few seconds."

Patricia Stimpson came from the rear with a bottle.

"It's only water, Brian," said Lee, "We're not going to waste good pumpkin juice on you."

Chessell took a sip and said: "Wha—?"

"You want to know why you're here?" said Lee, "Well, _you_ tell _us_. What have you done that justifies us going to a great deal of effort—"

"And fun!" said Alicia Spinnet.

"Yes," said Lee, "Think about it, Brian: why are you here?"

"Oh why are any of us here?" came the voice of Eddie Carmichael.

"Never mind my friends," laughed Lee, "Just give us an answer."

Chessell thought for a while, then said: "I don't know."

"Think harder, Brian, you've obviously offended a lot of people."

"I don't know, unless it's 'cos I'm in Slytherin. But I can't help that. I've never done anything bad. I've had to follow the others, that's all."

"You don't remember hitting a little boy in the corridor because he was gay?"

Chessell's eyes lit with comprehension: "I didn't mean to hit him. It was just a gesture."

"You were in a bad mood; you shouted an anti-gay slur; you hit a boy six years younger than yourself."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

"I don't believe you _are_ sorry: you haven't had time to think about it. And you _did_ mean it, even if you're pretending to yourself that you didn't. What we want you to do is go away and have a long think about things—bugger your N.E.W.T.'s revision—and then write out why tolerance of other people is right and bullying other people is wrong.

"Your parchment—twenty inches should be enough—will take the form of a letter to Lee Shepherd—that's the boy you hit. There is, however, an alternative."

Lee turned and said: "Bring on the Equaliser."

Harold Dingle came up and gave a pineapple to Lee. "Mind out, it's very sharp," he said.

"Brian," said Lee, "I wonder if you can imagine the consequences of this object being inserted inside someone's body? I solemnly swear that, if your letter doesn't fully satisfy both Lee Shepherd and myself, you will end up at St Mungo's with a pineapple stuffed deeply inside your rectum. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Jordan."

"And you might mention to your friends in Slytherin that, though we put up with anti-Muggle insults, there are too many gays and supporters at Hogwarts—including more than you know about inside Slytherin—to allow Hate Crime to go unpunished. And don't think your friends can protect you: if we can spirit you away with seven teachers looking on, think what we can do at other times.

"Oh, there's one more thing: you gave Shepherd a black eye, so it's only fair that you suffer one yourself."

Chessell looked terrified again, but Lee simply pulled what looked like a rubber stamp from his pocket and applied it to Chessell's eye. It gave him a hell of a shiner.

"Don't worry," said Lee, "The Twins tell me that it wears off after a few years. Bye-ee!"

Chessell scuttled off, clearly terrified that Lee might change his mind.

"Lee, you were terrific!" said Dean, "If only Angelina could be here!"

"Angelina _is_ here!" came a voice from the back, "Did you really think that the prefects wouldn't keep tabs on what was going on? Anyway, you did very well, Lee."

Dean saw Angelina and a few more prefects turn to leave.

The party broke up—rather sombrely, as most people felt that a mob against an individual is always ugly, even if it _is_ in a good cause.

Eddie Carmichael came up to Dean: "I've got a few cigs," he said.

"Brilliant!" said Dean, "Unless it's from the same place that sold you the Baruffio's Brain Elixir!"

"It's the real stuff! Come on."

X

With visits to Hogsmeade banned, and incoming mail scrutinised, cigarettes were in desperately short supply.

As the three boys walked towards the broom shed, Eddie explained to Dean how he had managed to smuggle some in.

"You can guess who did the biz, can't you?"

"Fred 'n' George."

"Corr—ect! Give that man a cocoanut!—no, not a pineapple! —Oh dear, too late!"

"But how?"

"They sent a huge shipment of canes, marked for the attention of Argus Filch, Esquire. There was a note from the Ministry instructing him to hold them pending the forthcoming restoration of corporal punishment."

Dean laughed exultantly: "And they were hollow, of course?"

"That's right. When we want to stock up, we just raid Filch's office, unscrew a handle, and tip out ten of Virginia's best!"

"Yes," said Cho, laughing also, "And if he ever tried to cane anyone, it would just snap."

The three of them laughed until they reached the greenhouses.

Then Dean stopped.

"Someone's there," he said.

They held their breath and listened.

"Can't hear a thing," whispered Eddie.

"Me neither," said Cho.

Dean got out his wand and held it, sensing the environment.

"There's Juvies here!" he said.

"Can't hear a thing."

"Me neither."

Juvenile Charms, or Juvenilia, or JC's, are an ancient set of charms, knowable only by students under seventeen, which enable rules to be broken. Dean guessed that Eddie and Cho were both overage, and put it to the test: "Do you think they're using Juvenile Charms?" he asked.

"Did you say you could hear something?" asked Eddie.

"Can't hear a thing," said Cho.

Dean always found this situation amusing. He and Seamus had had some wonderful conversations with Fred and George when the twins had come of age.

His present task was to break into the Charm, and then induct Eddie and Cho into it.

He tried to remember the sequences that he would need. He had done it before, but Seamus had been there to help him.

He waved his wand and recited the spells, while his companions looked as bland and placid as two cows in a field.

As soon as he had completed his incantations, he knew he had succeeded as Eddie said: "Ssh! I can hear something!"

They approached the long way round, as this allowed them to look down on the action, with their bodies concealed by a hummock and their heads shielded from breaking the skyline by higher ground.

They crept to the top of the hummock and looked down.

Dean's first impression was that a badger was rooting for earthworms: there were snuffling sounds and a stripey creature was moving about.

But then a boy's voice whispered: "Oh, yeah, Adam!" and the stripes resolved themselves into a pair of bumcheeks separated by a deep, dark crack.

It looked as though a naked Adam Watts was lying on top of . . . whom?

Adam was a good-looking fourth-year Ravenclaw boy who was planning to set up in life partnership—marriage they called it—with his classmate, James Poxon.

It was well-known that James wanted to remain celibate until after the ceremony, whereas Adam put it about with his fellow Gay Champions—Sea Jay, Derek Rath and Adrian Pucey. Adam also went around with little Peter Jones from Gryffindor and his Welsh boyfriend, Caerwen Morgan.

Ernie stiffened and Dean realised he was about to stand up with a cheery _What-ho!_

Dean squeezed Ernie's arm and emitted the softest _Ssh!_ He sensed that Cho had done something similarly inhibitory.

Ernie relaxed, and Dean returned to the problem of Adam's partner.

Then a shift in the positions of the two lovers revealed that the bottom one had very long hair. It was a girl!

His emotions rejected the idea—Adam being totally gay—simultaneously with his mind: the voice had been that of a pubescent male.

Then he had it: David Ward! A Gryffindor third-year with the longest hair in Hogwarts.

For a moment, Dean felt irritation: gays had it so easy; why was it so much trouble getting off with a girl. Then he felt a pang of envy—envy of both boys: Adam was one of the prettiest boys in the school, and David was an unknown exotic.

Despite his earlier romps, Dean was excited and got a very demanding horn.

Adam shifted down David's body and started sucking David's privates—sucking hard, to judge by the guzzling sounds; and sucking effectively, to judge by David's groans.

Even from the far side of Eddie, Dean could hear a rhythmic rustling: Cho was having a wank.

Adam got up to a crouch and David raised his legs in the air, allowing Adam access to his bum.

Adam was down again and licking David's bumhole, sending David into a frenzy. "Come on Ad," he whispered, "I need it NOW!"

Adam used his wand to do the _Lubricio!_ Charm—that was one of Harry's, Dean remembered—and slipped easily into David.

The badger's head shifted backwards and forwards in a steady rhythm. Both boys were panting and grunting.

They had magicked up a dark-coloured mattress—a definite improvement on a sheepskin rug, thought Dean.

David was making high-pitched noises like a dog's whining; Adam was squawking the occasional _Yeah!_

Then things came to culmination: David was vocalising loudly, but his efforts were drowned out by Adam's deafening: _Yeah! . . . Dave baby! . . . Gimme that arse!_

As they lay wheezing, with Adam whispering into David's ear, Dean did his own whispering: "Let me shock them as little as possible."

He got up and said: "It's only me—Dean."

The boys jerked, but remained _in situ_.

"Dean!" said Adam, "What are you doing here?"

"Came for a ciggy with two friends."

The beast with two backs, looked around, and the two onlookers made themselves visible and joined the party.

"Eddie and Cho!" laughed Adam, "Where did you get cigarettes?"

"Cornelius Fudge sends them down by Special Owl," said Eddie.

"I think you should be introduced, David," said Dean, "Adam Watts . . . David Ward . . . Eddie Carmichael . . . Cho Chang. And Cho, why don't you shake hands? No wiping now!"

Cho giggled and shook Adam's and David's hands. Both lads giggled too. Dean had guessed correctly that Cho's hand was sticky with come.

Then David giggled some more, and said: "I love giving me a formal introduction when I'm in this position!"

"Bad etiquette, eh?" said Eddie, "Well, it wasn't very good etiquette to spy on you, though I did enjoy the show—not as much as Cho maybe, but it was good stuff. You want to tone down the vocals though, young Adam; I'm surprised half of Hogwarts hasn't been rushing here to see what the disturbance is."

"Over seventeen?" said Adam.

"Both of them." said Dean.

"And you inducted them into my Juvies? That's pretty advanced magic."

"We gave Danny the Juvies and he deconstructed and expanded them."

"Yes, good idea," said Eddie, "Let's get the cigs out. If you two get up, we can make ourselves comfortable."

Adam pulled his penis from David's bum, causing the inevitable fart and the inevitable giggling.

Eddie waved his wand and the mattress became circular with a circle in the middle, round which the five boys could sit.

"That's good magic!" said Adam.

"A simple, compact 2-manifold of genus 1," said Eddie.

He had achieved nine "Outstandings" in his O.W.L.'s.

He took out what looked to be a gold cigarette-case and offered them round. Dean and Cho accepted, David said no thanks, and Adam said: "I'll just have the odd puff if I may, thanks."

The cigarettes were lit and Eddie said: "For a boy shortly to become, we trust, happily married, you seem to make free with an inordinate number of bottoms."

"Making hay while the sun shines," said Adam.

"Can't see the point, myself. Can you Dean?"

"Not in the least," said Dean, "But I have every respect and enormous affection for our gay brothers."

"Oh, so have I. So have I," said Eddie, "It's just that, when there are girls in the world it seems to me that all these gay boys are wasting opportunities."

"What about Tintin?" asked Adam.

Eddie laughed: "You can't call Tintin a boy, can you? When he's in the full fig, he's a prettier girl than any in Hogwarts . . . alright he may not have the full configuration, but that's not everything, you know."

Adam said: "Would it offend you, Cho, if I pointed out that you aren't exactly the most masculine of boys?"

"Not in the least!" laughed Cho, "I just don't feel the need to actually transform."

"If you did, I think you'd be prettier than Tintin."

"But not for me!" laughed Eddie, "We've been in the same class for six years; done our studying together; gone for smoke-breaks together. We're more like brothers—like brother and sister, if Cho wants—but that's it."

He put his arm around Cho, who said: "When Cedric died, Eddie said I could go with him if I wanted."

"That was big-hearted," said David.

"And the offer's always open," said Eddie, "Things aren't going too well with Harry, are they?"

"No, he's got no sympathy for Marietta," said Cho.

"Who said schooldays are the happiest days of your life? Not for everyone, I'm afraid. Adam and Dean, I know are happy. What about you David?"

"Ditto," said David, "I love everything about Hogwarts except Snape and the Slytherins—oh, and Umbridge, of course."

"She'll be out on her ear as soon as You-Know-Who starts making his presence felt."

"Yes, that's something we can really look forward to," said Dean.

They all laughed, but they knew it was gallows humour.

There was a moment's silence; the Eddie said: "Well, I'm for the common room. I'm in the mood to see what that little scamp Tintin's getting up to."

"Before we go, Eddie," said Dean, "Any chance that you could flog some ciggies, please?"

"You'd want to share them with Seamus, wouldn't you?" said Eddie, "And Seamus is _Persona Non Grata_ after the things he said about Harry Potter."

"They've made it up," said Dean, "They're good friends now."

"I haven't noticed."

"Trust me. They're really, really close now."

Eddie laughed: "But not as close as Adam and David, I hope! Alright, I'll consult Mr Filch's office tomorrow and let you have some at ten per cent over what the Twins charge me."

"Thanks, Eddie!"

They got up. Adam vanished the mattress and surreptitiously removed the JC's.

"That conga was good," said Eddie, "Let's do it now."

So they danced back to the castle, with Eddie's voice loudest as they sang: _Ronny, Ronny, Ronny_ . . .

X

David and Adam pecked goodbye, and the two Gryffindors walked up to the common room together.

The place was in uproar. The joy over the Quidditch trophy and the excitement of the Conga had made everyone hyper.

David was greeted by his dorm-mates, and Dean heard big Barry Elliott greet him with _Sesh tonight, mate!_

Their dormitory had been Danny's, so there could be no doubt as to what activity _Sesh_ referred to.

There was a circle around Ron, who was no doubt talking everyone through his many saves.

It was Ginny who had actually won the match, but she didn't appear in the least upset that Ron was getting the glory.

She looked up and saw Dean looking at her. Her face lit up in a beautiful smile and she waved cheerily at him. He waved back and found himself agreeing with Eddie: there was nothing like a girl.

All the same, a Sesh in _his_ dorm was a more immediate attraction; but then he saw that it was unlikely to come about as Seamus was snogging Lavender in a corner and Neville was gazing adoringly at Ginny.

Colin Creevey was playing Wink Murder with the first-years. He had an arm around his special friend, Alexander Bell. They were all sweet. He felt a tinge of regret that he hadn't looked closely at the tiny little willies of James Buckley and Lee Shepherd when he'd had the chance. It wasn't really Sex, but it would have been nice to have had a little play with them. He grinned as he remembered a Muggle phrase: _Kiddy-diddler_.

Lee Jordan was playing a game which involved wand-control of a ping-pong ball. It was mostly senior boys and girls, but he saw that Dennis Creevey was playing. He wasn't doing very well, but he was deliriously happy.

Dean walked over to join Ron's gang, as for this one night it must be called.

Sea Jay saw him and waved him to the seat between him and Harry Potter, but before he could get there, Dennis came up and hugged him briefly with an _Awright, Deano!_

Dean bent down and whispered in Dennis's ear: "Rudolf says can he spend the night with you and Colin?"

"Oh, sugar!" said Dennis, "Colin's reading a ghost story to the first-years tonight, and I go as chaperon and they're not quite liberated enough to deal with us three big boys cavorting."

Dean had to smile at the tiny thirteen-year-old considering himself a _big boy_.

"Am I on a promise, though?" he said.

"Yeah, we're both keen, Mister Dean!" said the boy before scurrying off to rejoin Lee's game.

Dean went over and sat between Harry and Sea Jay.

He leant over and said to Jonathan Neil: "Good plan, Jonny. Congrats."

"We've got to thank General Lee for the execution," said Jonathan, "though it _was_ a good plan. Fred and George would have loved it."

"My Jonny is utterly brilliant at everything!" said Sea Jay, and they looked fondly into each other's eyes.

Dean turned to Harry, who was listening, with slightly glazed eyes, to Ron's exposition of the problems of minding three hoops.

Ginny called over to him: "How's the revision going Dean?"

"Okay," smiled Dean, "I think I've earned my day off. I'll pick it up after breakfast tomorrow."

"Then that'll be you till after the O.W.L.'s."

"Yeah. Great catch, by the way."

Ginny tossed her head: "It was just a catch. It's wonder-boy's day. He surprised everyone."

Ron was diverted from his lecture: "Oh thanks, Sis! It's good to know your family have faith in you."

"Don't get snappy, Ron. You looked as surprised as anyone when you kept doing brilliant things."

Ron was mollified by the word _brilliant_: "Well, next year I'll do better," he said.

"If selected!" said Harry.

"Yeah, when Toadface has gone, Harry'll probably be captain, and he won't want to favour his best friend," said Ginny.

"I didn't mean that," spluttered Harry.

"I know; but it's true; and the sooner we lose that evil bitch, the better!"

"That's no way to talk about Madam Sprout!" said Neville, dissolving them in laughter.

As they chatted away, Dean found himself thinking about Ginny: was it a come-on? Was she saying that, after the O.W.L.'s, she'd like to go out with him? But she had been going out with Michael Corner for _ages_. And she really seemed to like him. Dean was bemused.

A few minutes later, James Carter, a tall first-year, came up to Dean with a note.

At first he thought that the Creeveys had fixed it for him to be included in the first-year dorm party, but he saw it was addressed to him and Lee.

Ripping it open, he read:

_Dear Lee and Dean,_

_Dean was too modest tonight to tell me the background to the Conga. The boys and girls in Ravenclaw are agog with admiration for the pair of you._

_Tintin has gone to Hufflepuff and asked them to invite you there. He's sure that the whole of Hufflepuff—not just the boy you championed today—will give you a really warm welcome._

_I hope you enjoy the socialising—and more, if you fancy some variety. Tintin looks at his best tonight._

_ Yours_

_ Eddie Carmichael_

Well! This was timely! Dean had been looking at Ginny and was desperately randy again. He was game for anything or anyone tonight.

He got up, but had to hang around waiting for Lee to be dummy.

James Carter was still hovering.

Dean smiled at him, and he summoned up the courage to speak: "Thomas, could I ask you a question?"

"Of course, Carter!" said Dean.

"People say . . . I mean . . . Is it true that Negroes have bigger penises than other people?"

Dean laughed: "It's no good asking me. I only know about my own. Didn't Danny Jorrocks deal with it in JIGS?"

"No, it just didn't come up. Danny _did_ say that penis size was important in fantasy but not in real life. When we were playing football this afternoon, me and Euan—that's Abercrombie—got talking about it at half-time."

Dean smiled: "Well, the two of you have my permission to indulge in as much fantasy as you like about my cock!"

"But not real life?"

"Not tonight, anyway. You just enjoy Colin's ghost story."

James wandered off.

Dean was pleased. There were two boys in the first-year dorm who were in the middle of gay love-affairs; and two who were interested in his cock. That left Smith—Paul, wasn't it? The prettiest of the five. If he were broad-minded enough, Dean might be able to get together with Colin, with the first-years joining in . . . It would have to wait until after the O.W.L.'s . . . But then there was Ginny. . . .

It was difficult being a randy teenager.

As he waited for Lee, he took pleasure in watching Dennis Creevey: like his brother, Dennis was a totally honest, wholesome boy; and like Dean, basically heterosexual. Yet, unlike Dean, he was open about his frolics with other boys, including his brother.

It all seemed weird, but one thing was certain: Dean was going to visit Hufflepuff tonight with an open mind.

Lee dropped out the game and Dean showed him the note.

"I'll give it a miss," said Lee.

"Why? It's only a bit of harmless fun."

"In the first place, I've emptied my bollocks twice today, and I'm less of a sex-maniac than most of the boys here; and in the second place, I'm staying faithful to Angelina."

Dean suppressed a laugh, and said: "Lee, just because Angelina said you'd done well, doesn't mean she's fallen for you."

"It shows she respects me, so when I ask her out after the N.E.W.T.'s, I think she'll say yes."

This time Dean _did_ laugh: "Snap! I'm waiting for the exams to end too."

"Ginny, I suppose? But she's been all over Corner."

"Well, we live in hope. And I hope for a lot of fun tonight—social really, just like Eddie says."

"Count me out."

"Oh, come on Lee! I'll feel a prick on my own."

"Bollocks! You'll feel half a second's worth of awkwardness; then you'll be cosy. Hufflepuff's the friendly house. Off you go. Enjoy yourself. I won't say a word."

"Thanks, Lee!"

Dean set off for the Hufflepuff basement.

X

He tapped politely on the barrel, and a deep bell sounded from somewhere inside.

The door was opened by a second-year girl, who ran away screaming _It's Dean Thomas! It's Dean Thomas!_

A cheery-faced seventh year came up. This was Robbie Files, Head of House, a popular figure throughout the school.

"Come in! Come in!" he said, shaking Dean's hand, "Lee Jordan not coming?"

"He thanks you for the invitation, but it's not really his scene."

"Tell him: if he changes his mind, Hufflepuff will always be open house to him—and to you as well, of course, Dean—Call me Robbie, by the way."

Tintin came sort-of running up.

"Ooh, Dean, my knight in shining armour!"

Tintin looked stunning. Dean had never seen him in _full fig_ before. He knew Tintin was a twelve-year-old boy, but here, standing before him was a beautiful, sophisticated, eighteen-year-old girl. An odour of Muggle perfume wafted from him. It smelled very expensive.

"Shut up, Tintin!" said Robbie, in a paternal sort of way, "Let me do the official bit, first."

He called for attention and addressed the room:

"Ladies and gentlemen, Hufflepuff is the hospitality house. We bear no ill-will to anyone, and we don't harm anyone—except perhaps by giving the laundry-elves a bit more work than the other houses. So, when one of our own is harmed, we salute any dashing white knight who helps us. A warm welcome, then, to Dean Thomas, whose compassion for a luckless victim of bullying has led him and his friend, Lee Jordan, who unfortunately cannot attend, to impose a strong deterrent against further such attacks."

There were claps, cheers, shouts of _Hi, Dean!_, and wolf-whistles.

"A welcome also to Tintin, our favourite Ravenclaw, whom we see on most days, and who has kindly volunteered to help entertain Dean."

There was more applause.

Tintin stepped forward to a position close to Dean, and said: "I see you're admiring my outfit. This is a deep v-neck chiffon cocktail gown with ruched bodice in summer ultramarine."

"Oh," said Dean, "And I thought it was a blue dress."

"Well said, Dean!" said Derek Rath, a blond, ruddy, fourth-year coming up to shake Dean's hand.

Derek was well-known to Dean because, in his rôle of Gay Champion, he was often in Gryffindor common room.

"I'm MC," said Derek, "We have a guest-hall, but the first-years were particularly keen that they should host you tonight. Let's go through; I see that they've gone ahead."

He led Dean and Tintin out through a circular door, down a passage and into the first-year dormitory.

It was a wonderfully cosy nest: room-curtains, bed-curtains, and bed-linen were of variously-coloured chintzes. There were two chaises longues, upholstered in yellow and black, facing each other, with a large oak coffee-table between them. The walls were hung with antique metalware: horse-brasses, warming-pans, farming and kitchen implements.

Dean noticed nothing of this: his attention was completely captured by the five smiling, naked boys, who were lined up to greet him.

"Allow me to do the introductions," said Derek, "First, James and Lee, who you know very well."

Dean made for a handshake, but each of the boys greeted him with a hug and a kiss on the lips.

"And this is Leon Wood," said Derek.

Leon was _huge_. He stood about five feet, seven, and was strappingly built. He might have been described as fat, except that most of his flesh looked like solid muscle, including, Dean guessed, the contents of his skull.

As they hugged and kissed, Dean thought that this must be what hugging a horse felt like—though Leon was not horse-like in the colloquial sense: his penis, a normal size for the average twelve-year-old, looked tiny in comparison with the rest of him.

Dean wondered if Leon had a touch of Giant in his background.

"Matthew Hinton," said Derek.

Matthew was big too, but not on the Leon scale. He had dark-blond hair and an intense expression which sometimes changed to a cheeky grin. As they hugged, Dean could feel a degree of flabbiness—not least from an impressive pair of boy-tits.

For the first time since his arrival in Hufflepuff, Dean's penis stirred.

Matthew treated him to a kiss that was more perfunctory than the other boys' kisses, but a hug that comprised a comprehensive, two-handed grope of Dean's buttocks.

"And last, but not least, Gideon Buchanan," said Derek.

Gideon was by far the most beautiful of the five, and blessed with a perfectly-proportioned body. He appeared half-and-half African and Caucasian, but his _Pleased to meet you Dean!_ was spoken in an immaculate Oxford accent.

He treated Dean to a sexy hug: one hand on Dean's head, and the other stroking Dean's back. Unlike the other boys, he stuck his tongue into Dean's mouth. There was a taste of Parma Violets.

Dean's penis was now definitely stiff.

"And you know me," said Derek, "but we've never kissed."

The shortfall was rectified, Dean being surprised, and slightly put off, by the stubble on the fifteen-year-old's chin.

Then Dean turned, saying: "And do I get a kiss from you, Tintin?"

"Willing and eager!" said Tintin.

He hugged Dean warmly enough, but when Dean moved to kiss him, turned his head so that they kissed cheeks. The musky perfume was overwhelming.

"Now let's sit down and relax," said Derek, taking his guests' robes and hanging them up.

"Derek," said Dean, "I forgot to do something this afternoon."

He sat down on a chaise longue.

"I wonder if the boys would mind clustering around?"

The boys clustered, and Dean had a pleasant few moments playing with their willies. He had a quick feel of each one, then a more leisurely round of retracting and restoring foreskins, squeezing shafts, and fingering ballsacks.

Under his ministrations, and with much tittering, the boys became erect, but there was nothing particularly special about the willies, erect or straight—apart from Leon's little three-and-a-half-inch stiffie having a slight twist so that it was a bit like a corkscrew.

They may not have been special, but they were _different_: each boy had his own individual willy, which, once you had got to know it, became an intrinsic part of your overall appreciation of the boy.

Dean felt some regrets that he had not realised earlier how much fun willies were. He remembered how, as first years, he, Seamus, Terry Boot and Michael Corner had shown each other their willies while sharing a fag one morning break. On another occasion, he and Seamus had felt each other's stiffies. Things had not progressed further because, in those pre-Jorrocks days, people were worried about being labelled gay—many of the older Hogwarts boys still were.

After the inspection, the eight boys sat on the chaises longues. Despite their name, these were not particularly long, and Dean said: "Why don't you sit on my knee, Tintin?"

"If you promise not to ladder my stockings, darling."

He slipped off his shoes.

"Let's have a drink," said Derek.

He half-filled eight glasses from a jug that had been sitting on the table. The two big boys had medium-sized glasses, the little ones shot-glasses.

Dean took a sip. It was a pleasant-tasting fruity drink. But two seconds after swallowing he was hit by a great internal kick and a slight burning sensation in the throat.

Everyone laughed.

"Merlin's beard!" spluttered Dean, "What in Hades is that?"

"Hufflepuff Punch!" said Derek, "It's brewed by our under-seventeens, under the protection of Juvies, and brought out on special occasions, and for special guests—which you most definitely are."

The others had a sip and conversation homed in on the Conga.

Derek had been involved in the planning, but only Dean among those present had participated at the sharp end.

He was made to describe the abduction and Lee Jordan's address to Chessell in detail. When he came to the pineapple, bottoms squirmed.

"Will he really do that if the apology's wrong?" asked Leon.

"Of course he won't," said James Buckley, "But Chessell doesn't know that. It's just Jordan's way of forcing him to think about his actions."

"It was Adam Watts that came up with the pineapple idea," said Derek, "We had some success from something similar a week or so ago."

"Well, let's hope it works," said Dean, "and the Slytherins learn that gay boys are supported by other boys and girls and bullying won't be tolerated."

"You are gorgeous when you're fiery," said Tintin, giving Dean a kiss—on the lips this time.

"Are you sitting comfortably, Tinny?" said Gideon Buchanan.

"Quite comfortable, thank you Gid; though it _is_ a bit bumpy."

There was much laughter and Lee Shepherd called out: _Swap!_

They had a second round of drinks, then Derek said: "Dean, this is your night. You can do anything you like. What's you fancy?"

"Well, I don't fancy anything that means I have to take—you know—a feminine rôle; but I _do_ fancy anything that involves Tintin—if that's not being disrespectful of Hufflepuff hospitality."

"Not disrespectful at all: that's why Eddie Carmichael sent Tintin here. Would you like to be alone with Tintin, or would you like us to watch while the pair of you enjoy yourselves, or would you like to do a little watching first?"

"Watching what?" asked Dean.

Derek smiled: "Well it so happens that in Hufflepuff Saturday night is bash-the-balls night—we all tend to keep a little in reserve. I have two little friends who are briefed and awaiting my attentions—Jimmy Millar, a Scottish third-year, and Ian Berry, a Hampshire second-year."

"Bring 'em on!" said Dean, "And, while we're waiting, I wonder if I could enjoy some more feelies?"

Derek left, and Dean had seconds on the first-years' willies.

Tintin had feelies too, commenting _Nice!_ or _Brill!_, except in Matthew's case: as he cupped Matthew's sack in one hand and stroked his willy with the other, he said: "If I had a Knut for every time Matty and me've done this, I'd be able to buy Viktor Krum!"

Derek returned with his friends. Jimmy was a sexy-looking boy with black, curly, shoulder-length hair; Ian was a short, interesting-looking boy with slightly exotic olive-coloured skin.

"Looking good, girlfriend!" said Ian to Tintin, and they kissed cheeks.

Ian said: "Hi Dean," and was rewarded with a kiss and cuddle.

Jimmy also kissed Dean, and said: "I've always admired you, Dean. What's it like sharing a dorm with Harry Potter?"

There were shouts of: _Never mind Harry!_, _Get 'em off!_, and _Let's see the MacWhopper!_

Derek, Jimmy, and Ian stripped off.

They were all rampant and ready for the off.

"We'll have a bit of progressive bumming," said Derek, "First up, Ian will do Jimmy. It's usually the other way round, but I haven't enjoyed Jimmy's delectable cock for all of a week."

It might or might not be delectable, thought Dean, but it was certainly striking: seven inches of skinny flesh, dead white, with very blue veins showing.

"Before Ian gets to work," said Derek, "you might care to inspect his sexy and informative posterior.

Ian bent over a bed displaying a beautifully-formed, tight little bottom.

Dean shifted Tintin and got up to have a look.

Ian had a tattoo on each bumcheek.

The left cheek bore a heart with the initials IPB and DTJ.

The right cheek was decorated with:

**This Facility was Inaugurated by**

**DANIEL TIMOTHY JORROCKS**

**2-IX-1995**

Dean smiled, but at the same time, he was stirred. The second of September had clearly been a big day in Ian's life.

"How did you manage to get it, Ian?" he asked.

"A Muggle tattooist," said Ian, "Robbie Confunded him so he thought I was over eighteen. Robbie says that, as I grow, it can be magicked to keep its shape and clarity."

Dean had a warm glow from the punch.

"Well, Ian," he said, "I feel that you and me are sort of brothers."

There was a stir around the room.

"Did Danny do you, too?" said Ian.

"Between these four walls, my facility has only been used once, and that was by our hero."

"One of our two heroes," corrected Derek.

"Quite right, Derek," said Dean, "We should never forget Harry!"

"Imagine sleeping in the same dorm as Harry!" said Derek, "Do you ever . . . Does Harry ever . . .?"

Dean was not _that_ mellow and answered: "No, we're a pretty straight dorm."

He was greeted by a gale of laughter.

"What's funny?" he asked.

"Oh Dean!" said Derek, "There's no such thing as a straight dorm. There's just inhibited dorms. If you'd been sorted into Hufflepuff, or if you'd been a year younger, you wouldn't be saying you're in a straight dorm."

"I did say _pretty_ straight!" said Dean, "Anyway, we all prefer girls, and I've won today's first prize."

Tintin wriggled with delight, and said: "No, _I_ have, sweety!"

He gave Dean a wet kiss, and told him: "Don't worry about smearing my lippie; it's got Lipcote _and_ a Charm from Eddie."

They shifted the chaises longues so that they had a good view of the bed.

Dean sat down again, pulling Tintin onto his knee, as Jimmy Millar lay back on the bed and raised his legs, revealing a bumhole surrounded by a wiry ring of hair.

It was a very short glimpse: Ian Berry quickly jumped on top, penetrated Jimmy, and started to tup him, the tattoos contorting as he moved in and out.

But Dean only had a short glimpse of this, too: Matthew Hinton bobbed down and buried his nose in Ian's bum.

"Matthew is an expert in bum-bouquet," explained Derek.

Dean shifted Tintin again, and got up to have a closer view.

Tintin stood by his side, with his left arm around Dean's waist, and his right hand holding Dean's right hand. Dean felt as though he were with a real girlfriend.

He glanced around the room. James Buckley and Lee Shepherd were curled up together, enjoying the view. Leon Wood and Gideon Buchanan were sitting separately, dreamily rubbing their erections.

Ian continued to wiggle for some time; then Jimmy said: "Enough, Ian!"

"At last" said Derek, and dived on the bed, lay on his back, and raised his legs to display a big, hairy bum with a big, hairy hole in the middle.

"Don't you dare come quickly, Jimmikins!" he said, "I need a proper job!"

"Keep quiet, then. When you start yelling, I get excited!"

Jimmy, freed from his impalement by Ian, turned himself over and applied the tip of his slender pole against Derek, setting the angle, and smoothly driving the full seven inches inside.

"That was a good slither-in," said Dean, "You're in the wrong house, Jimmy!"

"That's right, Dean," said Jimmy, "Jokes might slow me down."

"Fudge went into a bar with a parrot on his shoulder," said Dean, " 'Where'd you get that?' said the barman. 'The Unemployment Office,' said the parrot."

The laughter didn't stop Jimmy from propelling himself backwards and forwards at a moderate rate, nor Matthew from squashing his nose between Jimmy's bumcheeks and inhaling deeply.

As they stood watching, Dean brought up his left hand to feel Tintin's chest. There were small breasts there.

"Padding I suppose?" said Dean.

"Yeah, Nature let me down."

"They're a nice size—sexy, but not silly," said Dean, and kissed Tintin's ear.

"Thanks, dreamboat!"

Further intimacies were suspended as Jimmy redoubled his exertions, and panted: "Coming, ready or not!"

There could be no doubt that he _was_ coming: his backside was moving with enough oomph to throw Matthew clear.

While Jimmy was yelping noisily, Derek shouted: "Ian! Action stations!"

Ian had scarcely time to position himself beside the two copulators before Derek had pushed Jimmy away and stabbed Ian with a force that caused a squawk of pain, despite the comparatively small weapon.

Derek was excited and clearly close to orgasm.

"You'd better get in quick, Matthew!" said Dean.

"No. Cum takes all the smells away."

"But it's got a smell of its own!" said Gideon Buchanan, and he made a dive and pressed his face between Derek's cheeks.

He was only just in time: Derek was soon grunting and emptying himself into Ian.

The three boys remained as they were for a few seconds. Then Gideon rose, with a sticky nose and a big smile; Derek rose, panting heavily; and Ian rose saying: "What yer think, Dean?"

Dean clapped his hands, saying: "A round of applause for a splendid performance!"

The three stars acknowledged the applause with hands clasped over their heads like boxers.

"Time for a drink," said Derek, "I think it had better be a nightcap—it's nearly twelve o'clock."

Dean sat down, drawing Tintin onto his knee again.

He pulled him close and kissed him—a kiss that quickly turned into a snog—an enchanting snog, as Tintin, with his busy little tongue, clearly loved snogging and had practised it often.

Dean felt a strong desire.

"Tintin," he whispered, "Do you think they'd be upset if you and me went somewhere private?"

"Of course they wouldn't, darling. And we've got somewhere private: James and Lee always share a bed, so there's a spare; just for the two of us."

"And after, I'll see you to Ravenclaw, and slip home."

"I hope you won't! I hope you'll stay here for the night. I do it all the time, and if a first-year can get away with it, a big, healthy fifth-year should be able to."

Dean called out: "Derek can we stay the night, please?"

"Of course you can, Dean! The two of you can have all the privacy you want, though I think you'd be doing us all a favour if you stripped off before we turn in."

Once more, Dean shifted Tintin and stood up.

Suddenly, shoes and socks; top and bottom were off and Dean stood in boxer shorts, a preposterous-looking, damp tent at the front.

"Is this enough?" he asked.

There was a chorus of disagreement, and Dean dropped his pants, causing the chorus to change to claps and cheers.

Dean's willy was solid, and standing at an aggressive-looking forty-five degrees. It was about the same length as Jimmy Millar's, but much, much thicker. As they watched, a sliver of viscous fluid dribbled downwards.

Derek made an instinctive move to grab the enticing, black organ, but Dean backed away, saying: "Hands off! Tonight it's Tintin's."

He took Tintin in his arms and unzipped his dress as smoothly as if he were an old rake who'd been doing it for years.

Tintin stepped out of the dress.

He was wearing a slightly padded bra and an old-fashioned suspender-belt, which supported black stockings.

But Dean's attention was more drawn to the equally feminine panties in frilly black silk; and even more drawn to the slit at the front, out of which hung a decidedly unfeminine set of genitalia.

"Merlin's beard, Tintin!" laughed Dean, "Flashing that lot's a bit against the game-plan, isn't it?"

The other lads were tittering at Dean's reaction—they had probably seen Tintin's sartorial arrangements dozens of times before.

"Ooh, a bump's so unsightly," said Tintin, "Besides, it's so convenient when I have to spend a Knut."

Dean laughed again: "Irony!" he said—they had done _Irony_ with Mrs Englishen-Latin—"The one boy who definitely doesn't need it gets hung like a Centaur!"

Tintin's privates were, indeed, impressive: a long, burly penis failed to conceal a grandiose, pendulous, bulging sack. He was much better kitted out than any of the other five first-years.

"And what the hell is this?" Dean asked, and had to have suspender-belts explained to him. Then he remembered a story his uncle had told him: how, as a young man, he had perfected the art of unclipping stockings through ladies' dresses, only to have his new-found talent made redundant by the arrival of tights.

He drew Tintin into another snog, jerking slightly as a nose found its way into his bumcrack.

"Matthew! Down, Rover! Down, Sir!" laughed Derek.

"One more whiff," came the muffled response, but it was a bit more than a whiff: Dean could feel a tongue licking his hole.

Matthew withdrew, and Ian Berry asked; "What's it like Matthew?"

"Luscious!—and sweaty!"

Dean continued the snog, one hand squeezing Tintin's bottom.

He wanted the lights out so that Tintin could be a girl again.

The three older Hufflepuffs had completed the process of dressing by the time Dean broke off.

They kissed goodnight and left.

Then, Dean and Tintin kissed the five residents goodnight and walked hand-in-hand to Lee Shepherd's bed.

They drew the curtains and put out the light.

X

Dean was feeling manly and masterful, and lay on top of Tintin, who splayed his legs to allow Dean to rest between them.

He kissed the boy/girl gently, licking his teeth from side to side.

It felt completely congruous, as though Nature had decreed that this was what Dean should be doing, and Fate had decreed that he should do it with Tintin.

He nibbled and licked Tintin's ears and kissed his neck; one hand was under the boy's head, and the other stroked his arm and flank.

He reversed his hands, and went for the other side.

Tintin was stroking Dean's head and back.

After quite a long time, Dean shifted down and found a nipple. He sucked it, then moved to the other nipple.

Tintin's nipples were tiny.

That was the second most unwomanly think about him: Dean had seen his sisters' nipples, which were big. Come to think of it, Oliver Wood had big nipples, and so did the Weasley twins. And Lee Jordan's had been big and hard.

"Shall I give you a suck?" whispered Tintin.

"Not now."

Dean was enjoying the current set-up.

Strangely, it seemed to have nothing to do with Sex—more to do with . . . well, Love.

That was what Dean was feeling for the boy/girl beneath him.

Most boys shy away from the word _Love_, except as a verbalisation to be used on their girlfriends as an _open_ _sesame_.

Danny Jorrocks had used the word frequently, but he _meant_ it. It must be wonderful, thought Dean, to feel the way he felt now about _everybody_, rather than just one person he happened to be lying on top of.

Tintin shifted to one side.

For a moment Dean thought he was going to fart, but he raised a leg and rested it on Dean's shoulder. Then he repeated the manoeuvre on the other side.

Straightaway, the set-up _was_ to do with Sex. Totally. Dean felt his deepest sex-urge for weeks. He had to have Tintin now!

He reached for his wand, but Tintin held his arm, whispering: "I'm all Charmed up, Big Boy. Get stuck in!"

Dean raised himself, and groped for the hole; but Tintin stopped his arm, and gently took hold of Dean's willy. He guided it to the right place, and whispered: "Push!"

Dean pushed; then a bit more; than a hard push.

He was fully, in and at once withdrew a little; then pushed again.

He set up a slow rhythm: he wanted this to last forever.

"Oh yeah Dean! Keep doing that!" whispered Tintin, and Dean kept doing it.

He realised that this was his first ever shag. He'd lost one of—was it six, Danny had said? —virginities; and some time—not too soon, he hoped—he would lose another when he squirted into Tintin.

The sensation was beyond Dean's imagination—better than wanking; better than being sucked.

The only snag was that Tintin was too small for them to kiss.

Dean remained fairly upright, and stroked Tintin's head and arms and nipples.

The moment of joy—and termination—could not be postponed forever, and Dean lost that additional virginity with a forceful series of strokes deep inside Tintin.

There was yet another first: after a few seconds, Dean withdrew, lay back down next to Tintin, and whispered in his ear: "I love you."

It was an uncool thing to say, but he meant it.

"I love you," said Tintin, with a promptitude that had Dean wondering how many times he had said this before.

They got talking about their lives.

"How long have you been a girl?" asked Dean.

"As long as I can remember, but I didn't really blossom until my last year at primary school, when I started having boyfriends."

"I bet you took some stick."

"Not really. Mum and Dad sent me to a Muggle school in a rural area. Half the kids were being shagged by their dads and uncles; half the rest had dads and uncles who were shagging sheep for seven days every month. In that sort of context, a girly boy was nothing special."

"What do your parents make of you?"

"Mum thinks I'm her boy—so I'm a male. And she expects males to do just what they want, so she's not bothered. Dad thinks it's a good laugh, and he's proud of me being something special."

"That's nice."

"When people ask him how many kids he's got, he tells them: three—one of each."

Dean laughed and said: "Good for him! . . . You obviously like sex; do you get orgasms?"

"Not really. I've rubbed myself as long as I can remember, which felt good; and the boys at Muggle school were queuing up to bum me, which felt a different sort of good. Then since just before I came to Hogwarts, I've been getting this sort of intense feeling—specially when the big boys like you bummed me. But not the screaming habdabs like Euan Abercrombie and Caerwen Morgan. What about you?"

"I'm like you: always enjoyed rubbing myself; then when I was nine, I started getting orgasms; and I was only just twelve when I started squirting."

"You're the same as Danny: lucky devils, both of you."

"Except Danny made the most of his luck, and I didn't."

"Danny's unique . . . Ooh, Dean! You wicked man! You're stiff as a wand again. Do you want to do me? I would suck you, but I'm like Danny: I don't fancy my own poo-poo."

There was an immediate chorus of voices: _I'll do it_ . . . _You did him this afternoon_ . . . _You did Jordan_ . . . _Well, you can do Jordan next time_ . . . _It_ **is** _my_ _bed_ . . . _Shut up you two. _**I'll** _do it_.

There was a patter of feet and a third body landed on the mattress.

"I thought you were all asleep," said Dean, "Who's the unlucky boy, then."

"Me. Gideon."

There was a squeal from Tintin: "That's my _minge_! Get off, you pervert!"

"Sorry, girl!"

Gideon found the right penis and licked it all over a few times. Then he took the tip in his mouth and ran his tongue around it. Then he sucked, working up from light to hard (ha-ha). Then his head started bobbling.

Dean found himself wondering if Ginny would ever do this to him—do it with _anyone_. He couldn't visualise it, yet _some_ girls did. . . .

Gideon was varying things all the time, and each variation excited Dean more, until, pushing Gideon's head downwards, he shot yet another load.

With scarcely a gulp, Gideon raised his head and said: "Wanna kiss, gorgeous?"

"Alright," said Tintin, and the two boys indulged in a squelchy-sounding kiss."

"Now piss off!" said Tintin, "He's mine for the night."

Gideon left; Dean whispered "He's done that before," and the two boys fell asleep with the little first-year firmly held in the arms of the big fifth-year.

X

Dean woke up on Sunday morning feeling a lot more cheerful than he had twenty-four hours earlier, despite a hint of headache which was easily ascribable to Hufflepuff Punch.

Tintin was sprawled on top of him.

He shook the boy's shoulder: "Tintin, I've got to get back to Gryffindor."

Tintin shifted, kissed Dean deeply, and said: "Give us a going-away present, then."

Dean felt a storm of lust.

He turned the boy onto his back and lifted his legs, pausing when he saw that Tintin had a huge erection—huge for a twelve-year-old, anyway.

"Merlin! That's a beauty, Tintin! Would you like to use it on me?"

"Of course not! Just do the gentlemanly thing, and give me a bopping."

Dean did the gentlemanly thing, plunging full-strength into Tintin, and scouring his bumhole as strenuously as any girl could wish.

He felt on a high of highs as he pumped his juice into Tintin. He finished his bouncing and felt overtaken by affection. He thought how nice it would be to have Tintin as his permanent girlfriend.

As though reading his thoughts, Tintin said: "Dean, will you be my steady?"

Dean kissed him gently on the lips and said: "There's a girl I think I'm in love with. I can't think of anything but O.W.L.'s for three weeks. Then I'm going to ask her, and if she turns me down, I promise I'll come to you on my knees, asking if you'll take me."

"I will, my beautiful prince," said Tintin, kissing him, "And I hope she gets Hippogriff glanders," he added.

As Dean got dressed, a thought came to him.

"Tintin?"

"Mmm?"

"When you get older and bigger, that thing between your legs is going to get bigger as well. What are you going to do with it?"

"I'll let you know when I've had my first orgasm—with you I hope."

"Cool!"

They had one last, long kiss before Dean set off for Gryffindor.

"Look at the state of you!" said the Fat Lady, as her portrait door swung open, "Have you been playing Macbeth?"

"Thanks for the tip, Miss."

Tintin's make-up had obviously transferred some of itself to him.

He took out his hankie, spat on it, and wiped his face, repeating the operation until he was confident that he was presentable.

He crept through the common room and up to the dormitory.

He expected them to be still sleeping, but had not allowed for exam-panic: Seamus and Neville were sitting up in bed, reading textbooks.

"Where ya been, Dean?" asked Seamus.

"Went for a walk to clear my head."

"I know what you mean. My head's spinning. Eight days and we've got the O.W.L.'s."

"I'm gonna have a shower."

"Good idea. I'll join you."

The lads stripped off by their beds.

Suddenly, Seamus said: _Arrah! Ma chthrone!_, or something like it.

"Eh?" said Dean.

"Deano, you smell like Ladies' Night at the St Peter's!"

"Eh?"

"You've been with a girl, haven't you?"

"I splashed on some of Lee's aftershave after the footie."

"That's a woman's perfume!"

"Sure, you're entitled to your opinion," said Dean, in an Irish accent, "I'm for Haitch Two Owe!"

He strolled, naked towards the showers.

Seamus was at his heels: "Who was it? I won't tell."

"Nor would I, even if I _had_ been with a woman."

Dean went into a cubicle and turned the shower on.

Seamus—a fairly erect Seamus, Dean noticed—said: "Sorry, I won't say another word. Let's share the shower like we did in first-year."

"Go away, Seamus. We're much too big."

As Seamus went into the next-door cubicle, Dean decided that Seamus had made a sexual advance to him—deniable, but definite. If it had been twenty-four hours earlier, he'd have jumped at the offer—jumped at Seamus; and the two of them could have comforted each other through the exams.

As it was, life was too complicated already. He supposed that the fact that Dean was sexually active had suddenly made him fanciable in Seamus's mind. Or Seamus might just have been lonely and desperate for comfort, as Dean had been on Saturday.

He had a momentary impulse to go next door and cuddle Seamus, but no: he must stick to common sense.

Three weeks of intense concentration on work, then Ginny . . . or Tintin . . .but what about Colin? . . .

Yes, it was very difficult being a randy teenager.

His hand found his penis.

Dean and Seamus were having separate wanks.

**THE END**


End file.
